


Dew Me Valley

by LadyBriarandPeridotRevived



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBriarandPeridotRevived/pseuds/LadyBriarandPeridotRevived
Summary: After the passing of their grandfather, Avery Scholl must find a way to pay for funeral expenses, mounting college debt and their monthly bills. The only option is to sell Natu Farm, the property their grandfather owned in Stardew Valley. But, there's a small problem; that problem being, upon arrival, they may never want to leave again.(The beautiful people there may be a factor.)
Relationships: Everyone/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue: A Drunkard's Folly

Dew Me Valley  
LadyBriarandPeridotRevived  
Prologue: A Drunkard's Folly

Club Seven was a hole-in-the wall gay bar off Seventh and Myrrh street. On the outside, it was unassuming and quaint; cracked cement walls covered in English Ivy, rounded bamboo doors with tarnished bronze edges, and an ancient yellowing sign all giving it a folky atmosphere- dissuading tourists from trespassing. Inside, however, the age was geared for a much younger native crowd. Neon lights flickered in the dim, smoky lounge, while the speakers blared with Electronica. Bodies swayed to the music, as if possessed by the heady euphoria of being queer and powerful. Here, if not elsewhere, that spirit of freedom was alive and reckless.

In contrast, Shane really wasn't alive at all. He stumbled in, hands flitting at his sides, hair plastered to his scalp from the rain. He was already drunk at this point, the smell of alcohol and weed cloying to his clothes. He had work in the morning, the last sober part of him mumbled numbly as he struggled with his wallet. He should be doing his laundry. Be anywhere but here, again. Distantly, he could hear his own ragged voice ordering anyways, the cheerful bartender's response barely registering in his foggy mind.

"Hun, that is definitely not enough. Also, I think you've had enough. Do you need me to call someone?"

He frowned. "No, no. That should be enough," he slurred, "It's 18.50, and that's- that's 18.50."

"No sweetie, that's 4 dollars and ten cents. Are you okay? Like I said, I can call you a cab," the bartender tersely replied, her eyebrows furrowing. In his wavy vision, he could see her bright, drag-style eye makeup swirl and spin on her face. Shane blinked and looked down at his cash, surprised. "Is my," he clumsily started, paused and tried again, "Is my money no good?"

The lady shook her head. "No, hun. I can get you some water though, if you need to sit a while."  
He pushed himself away from the counter. "Nah, nah, it's cool. It's cool. I," he halted, shaking his head, "I just gotta pee." With that, he began wandering into the throngs of people, leaving her to stand alone in bewilderment.

The bathroom was also a rather small affair, with only a single urinal and a single stall inside. The walls were tiled with some godawful off-white bullshit, and the floor a hastily buffed slab of concrete. Lurching his way to the toilet and finishing his business, he caught a glance of himself in the cracked mirror as he washed his hands, almost falling over his boots as he did.

In that reflection, he could see it all; his forehead becoming creased with wrinkles, the purple, sunken bruises tugging at his under eye, the glazed flush of his stupor gleaming in the harsh florescent lights. He blanched, disgusted by that momentary clarity, and twisted away. He needed a haircut, he grumbled to the thin, tight air around him. Bangs are getting too long again.

"I mean it's not so bad, just...a bit messy," Came a subdued, low answer from behind. "I have an extra comb. You know, if you need it or anything." Shane jumped, "What the hell, man?"

The interloper laughed softly, putting two palms out in front, like a white flag. "It's okay, not gonna hurt ya," and then, like an afterthought, "and, despite common misconception, I'm not a man."

He drank in the image of the tall, willowy form before him. Blonde scraggly curls foamed over broad shoulders, framing angular chin, while blue-green eyes bemusedly stared back from butterfly lashes. "But, you, you…" he trailed off until the lazy suggestion that he was in the men's room fell into his empty head, "you're in here!"

Frustrated laughter tumbled from full, ruby red lips. "Not that it's any of your business where I choose to pee, but this is actually a gender neutral bathroom, buddy." Then, a sigh, "New Gays, I swear- I'm not a walking textbook. You can do your own research too. Go google it."

Shane wrinkled his nose. "I'm, I'm not gay." At least, I better not be.

The person in front of him flinched. "Wait, wait. You know this is a Queer bar, yeah?"

"A what?" He grimaced. "I just need a drink. I'm not here for all of," he gestured vacantly, "this stuff. In fact," he declared, "I'm going home." He turned to stride off confidently, cutting the conversation short, when he promptly passed out cold.


	2. Oh, Haven't You Heard, Baby?

Chapter One: Oh, Haven't You Heard, Baby?

"Oh lover boy, lover boy; oh lover, lover boy! I'll never ever leave ya! Ya hold the sunshine in your hands," Avery Scholl crooned to the freshly empty kitchen, spinning and swishing their skirt around at their ankles. "All this old world can see that!" Around them, the midmorning light beamed through the airy studio apartment, bathing them in an etheral, if not morose, spring glow.

Behind them were piles and piles of full boxes and cartons. A red dolly sat trim and prepared by the door, ready for when they finally braved the stairwell down to parking. They stalled for the briefest of seconds. This was it, after all. This was goodbye.

Avery had lived in the Cambria Apartments for five years. Specifically, the five worst years of their life, but the place itself still held a fond spot in their heart. To them, it had felt like the story of their life had begun here. They had taken root, found community, learned to cherish and honor their truth here. They even fell in love, for a spell. Now, they supposed, it was time to turn the page from last winter's heartache.

His death had been expected, but still painful. In the beginning, when the doctors first discovered the cancer, he tried to fight his fate. "Those quacks think they got me all figured out," her grandfather would quip, taking another drag from his pipe, hands trembling. "I'm gonna live. And I'm gonna do it my way."

Near the end, though, the facade began to slowly decay with him. "I knew, I knew I shoulda quit when I had the chance," he whispered to them one lonely night, shame lacing his voice. "I'm just too old and tired." That next Monday, he was gone and with him, their world.

Shortly after, as they began delving into his will to execute it, Avery quickly became overwhelmed. Everett Scholl had little to no assets; he had been living off of social security and food stamps for the past three years and was in severe medical debt. His military service was so long ago and had ended in such a way that he no longer qualified for paid funeral expenses.

The only thing that could be done was to sell the farm. Of course, however, it wasn't as easy as it sounded.

Five years ago, their grandfather had started up the process when he stopped being able to care for himself. Then, for whatever reason, sentiment, difficulty, the slow process of dementia creeping up upon him, he stopped. Instead, he wrote a clause in his will and a secret letter he stuffed away in his desk, mere months before his passing.

My dearest grandchild, I have to apologize.  
The years have been unkind to us both, and one day soon, the going will be a bit rougher for you. And for that, I must apologize.  
I thought I could do it before. Part of me desperately wanted to be strong enough to do so. But then, I came back for just a brief moment, before I could sign the title away. And I just can't. I cannot bear to think of this land as someone else's land. I cannot bear to imagine a shopping mall, or a warehouse, or a what-have-you-now here instead of the ponds and trees and birds. Natu is, and always has been, my home. Now, it shall be my legacy unto you.

When they originally discovered the clause, they had screamed into a pillow, thrown their cell phone across the living room and sobbed. For perhaps the first time in their life, they got angry with the old man. "You go and die on me, and now this?" Avery had wailed. There was no way in hell that they could take time off from their job to go live in Nevada for a whole goddamn year! They were about to start college, a life! They had bills!

Then, as the arrangements started forming for his cremation, the anger sizzled off into dejected acceptance. There was no other way to pay the expense. Working at Joja Mart, even in the new management position they had sidled themself into, would never be able to pay off this, their tuition, and keep the lights on. Something had to budge- fortunately (unfortunately), at least they had housing to fall in on. Their supervisors approved a transfer to the nearest town. College, it seemed, would have to wait.

Pulling the dolly towards the door, Avery decided to make peace with it all. If life didn't lead to an immediate diploma, maybe that would be alright. If life decided it was time to undo, uproot, unravel, they would just need to move with the flow. Quietly, as they began their descent for one of the last times ever, they sang to no one: "Oh lover boy; sweet sunshine boy. I ain't never gonna let you go."


	3. Wouldn't Be The First

Chapter Two: Wouldn't Be The First.

"Hey, miss, why do you walk with that stick?" Eager eyes glimmered as sticky fingers tugged at their hemline. Avery froze, gaze darting around the station. "Um, it helps me not fall over. Where's your mother, little one?" The boy jammed his thumb up his nose and began picking with gusto, pointing vaguely to a shuffling crowd. "Over there. Why do you fall over?"

"That is a really long story," they muttered. "Maybe I'll tell you some other time. What's your mom's name?"

"Mommy," the child retorted seriously, continuing his earnest work. "I'm five," he added, showing the number on his free hand. "I'll be six next year."

Avery smiled wearily, "That's awesome. How about your name? Do you have a name?" They gently prodded.

"Mommy says don't tell strangers your name," the kid said, squinting. "Are you a stranger?"

They rubbed their eyelids. It was four in the morning in Sulley, Colorado. Streaks of sunlight had just barely been brushed over the peaks of the Rocky Mountains, stars still twinkling behind broad strokes of pale pink, green and orange. "A little bit," they admitted, "but I'm only gonna take you back to your mom. Pinky promise."

The little boy glanced behind him, "Vincent. But I like Vince better."

Avery nodded encouragingly. "That's great, Vince." Then, just as they were about to start calling for his parents, a thin woman with a high forehead and a long braid pleated to the side bustled out from the congregation of travelers, waiting for the bus. "Baby?" She cried, "Vincent, I swear to Yoba-! Vincent!"

"Ma'am, over here!" Avery shouted. "Vincent is safe, he's right here!" Beside them, he also hollered, "Mommy! Mommy!"

The woman pinched her nose and came closer, bright red. In tow, a petite girl in a purple and white dress ambled along in her shadow, peeking out at the scene from under a bushy black mop of hair. "Baby boy, I told you not to wander off!" Turning to face them, she addressed Avery, seemingly horrified. "Oh my goodness, I hope he wasn't bothering you!"

"It's fine," they assured, grinning wryly. "He just had some questions."

The woman shook her head. "I am so sorry. He can be a bit rambunctious, but I swear he's a sweetheart." Her attention squarely back him, the boy squirmed. "Young man, I know you know better than to run off. It's busy here. You could have gotten lost!"

Shifting where he stood, he mumbled, "I'm sorry Momma. I won't do it again."

She softened, "I was just worried, my love." She scooped him up in her arms, hugging him tightly, "You are so precious to me!" She poked his cheeks until he giggled, "I can't lose my Vince!" Finally, she turned back to Avery. "Thank you, for keeping an eye out! I really appreciate you."

"No problem," they yawned. "Needed something to do while I waited anyways. This thing is taking forever."

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Came the sardonic reply. "We've been delayed another two hours. The bus driver is off schedule."

"You gotta be kidding. I've been waiting for an hour already."

"Nope." Shoving loose auburn strands behind her ear, the woman outstretched her hand. "I'm Jodi- Jodi Sutherland, by the way."

"Avery," they murmured in awe. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the frosty months since Avery had Been In Love, but in that crisp moment, Jodi was stunning. The kind of stunning that left them floored and floundering. "Avery Scholl."

"Which way are you headed?" Jodi shifted down to pick up Vincent, who was in the process of tasting what he had harvested.

"Ah, um, well, to Nevada," Avery stammered, fidgeting with one of the straps of her luggage bag. "Got, um, a family thing to take care of. You?" Was this real? Was this gorgeous woman really talking to them?

Jodi blinked. "Me too, actually. Although, just finished with the family thing," She snorted, a bitter weariness creeping into her unmistakable southern accent. Then, as almost an afterthought, she blurted,  
"Would you like to wait for the bus with us? You don't have to sit here by yourself."

"Sure," Avery said, as their voice cracked. "Being alone sucks, anyways."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! So I haven't written fanfiction in several years. This is utter garbage, but I had fun and maybe you might have fun reading it too.


End file.
